The Housekeeper's Son
by AshleyBudrick
Summary: One-shot. Pre-Movie. After watching Robbie doing the gardening around the yard, Cecilia realizes that he may have more of an affect on her than she figured.


The Housekeeper's Son

I awoke again to my bedroom filled with bright sunlight, the blankets over me seeming hot and stuffy. The windows were open, and as I pushed back the blankets, I could feel a gentle breeze blowing in through them. I swung my slender legs over the side of my bed and slipping my feet into a pair of slippers. I sat there for a moment, trying to battle away the drowsiness that often accompanied me at this time of day. I stretched, yawned, and lazily got to my feet, and went over to my dresser. As my eyes adjusted, it took me a moment to locate what I was searching for, but I soon found it nestled amongst bottles of perfumes and oils. I grabbed the hair brush and pulled it through my brown curls a few times, giving my hair the desired neatness that I always liked to have, although my hair almost never gave me a terrible hassle.

I peered into the mirror sleepily; my face looked tiredly back at me, my brown eyes still half closed. They were smudged around the corners, for last night I hadn't bothered removing my make up.

I crossed to my closet, and pulled out a simple flower-pattern housecoat. It was thin and made of silk, a proper item to be wearing judging by the weather. It was going to be another sweltering summer day, I decided, as I glanced out the window to our large gaping front lawn. The grass looked an almost neon green in this morning light, still glittering in patches from the dew.

The sunlight, as I walked into the rays of it streaking across the bedroom floor, was already unbelievably warm. Yes, it was going to be another one of those days.

I perched myself on the windowsill for a moment, reaching in my housecoat pocket and luckily found my lighter and a cigarette. I lit up, and took a deep puff and then exhaled the smoke into the air. I watched it drift out of the window and dissipate in the morning breeze.

The house was quiet, very quiet. I couldn't even hear Briony typing away on her typewriter, like she normally did at this time of day. I found this a bit strange, considering my younger sister always seemed to be writing something or another, whether it be a little one page drabble or a large novella, or as of recent weeks, a play.

She must be sleeping, I figured, or perhaps she had already gotten dressed and went outside for a romp around the yard. In any case, it was somewhat relaxing not to hear the rapid typewriter clicking and clunking from down the hallway.

I let out a sigh, and suddenly, a movement down on the front lawn caught my eye. Since my mind had been on Briony, I had first expected it to be her, but it wasn't.

It was Robbie.

I watched him as he crossed the lawn, wearing a pair of brown pants and a dark grey shirt, pushing a wheelbarrow full of weeds. For a young man aspiring to be a doctor, I often found it amusing to see Robbie out and about around our gardens. He obviously had a secret green thumb, for whatever he managed to do; he often made it look beautiful. He took great pride in his work, weeding, planting, and watering or whatever he might be doing.

Although Robbie was a childhood friend, seeing him now made me feel like we hardly knew each other. Since Cambridge, Robbie and I hardly speak like we used to. I remember many, many hot summers, just like this one, where I spent time out on the lawn with Briony and Robbie, the three of us chattering and laughing and just having a carefree attitude.

It wasn't like that now.

Robbie was here for the summer doing gardening, and he kept himself busy with it. When he wasn't working, he often just went to his house down the lane. Not that I was the busiest of sorts, but Robbie and I seemed to hardly ever cross paths. And when we did, brief friendly greetings would be exchanged; perhaps a comment about the weather, and then the conversation ended.

I didn't necessarily want it to be that way, but, sometimes that's just how things work out to be. Robbie and I had sort of drifted apart when we went to Cambridge, I had my own studies and my friends, and Robbie had his.

I watched as Robbie crossed the front lawn by the fountain, wheeling his wheelbarrow full of those damned weeds I'd often hear him cursing about. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, and even from my window I could see his perspiration on his arms, face, and neck.

I pitied him for a moment, then I turned away and got to my feet, and left the bedroom, my cigarette leaving a trail of smoke behind me as I hurried down the hallway, then clattered down the glorious staircase, and then into the foyer.

I passed one of the maids, and muttered a good morning to her, and then I hurried outside. I didn't have to worry about being just in my nightdress, housecoat and slippers, for there wasn't anyone here but the servants, maids and my family.

Almost instantly as I stepped outdoors, the heat wave struck me right in the face and I let out a frustrated gasp, frowning and shielding my eyes from the sun, which was glowering down on me from the blue sky.

When I crossed into the lawn, I stopped several feet onto the grass to watch Robbie, who was over at another garden, down on his knees picking out more weeds. I heard him talking to himself, and without a doubt I knew he was cursing the weeds.

I stood there for a while, watching him, until he was done with the garden. He threw the last weed into the wheelbarrow, wiped his hands on his pants, and began wheeling the wheelbarrow back across the lawn.

Stupid I was, I had been so focused on watching him, that it didn't really dawn on me that there was anything wrong when he stopped and looked at me. It took me a couple of seconds to register that we were staring at each other, and I was just standing there in my housecoat and nightgown looking like some dolts.

"Good morning, Cee," Robbie smiled at me, not acting like what I was doing was really absurd looking.

"Oh, good morning," I replied, instantly feeling dumb. I took a puff on my cigarette.

Robbie looked at me in silence for a while, like he had been expecting me to say something else, which would possibly explain why on earth I had been looking at him.

"It's going to be another hot day," Robbie declared.

"Yes," I answered. Oh what a horrible reply! I was making myself look even more foolish in front of him. But if he was noticing, he wasn't making it apparent.

Robbie's blue eyes met my brown ones.

"Do… you… need something?" he asked awkwardly, raising an eyebrow, "You were just standing there… I figured you might have wanted something. You can have some weeds, if you like. I've got too many," he smiled and laughed slightly afterwards.

I wanted to laugh, but I couldn't. I was too busy thinking of an answer. Did I want something? I wasn't exactly sure… I hadn't wanted anything. Oh God, I had just walked out onto the lawn to watch him for no apparent reason whatsoever. Would I say that? Of course not. The first thing popped into my head, and I said it,

"Have you seen Briony?"

"Hmm," Robbie narrowed his eyes, "I don't think I have."

"It was just unusually quiet this morning," I said quickly, "She's usually writing you know."

"Ah, yes," Robbie nodded, smirking, "Well, I haven't seen her, Cee. But if I do, I'll let you know."

"Oh you needn't bother, I was just wondering, that's all," I answered, brushing a stray piece of hair out of my eyes. I dropped my cigarette to the ground and stamped it out, then hugged myself.

It was silent for a few moments, and Robbie picked up his wheelbarrow, and just as I was about to say something, Briony went rushing by me across the lawn.

"There's your answer," Robbie replied.

"Oh," I nodded, "I guess she was late getting up."

"Hmm," Robbie agreed, and he looked for a moment to Briony as she ran off, then back at me, "Well, I'll see you around, Cee."

"Yes," I answered, and he turned away from me, and began pushing the wheelbarrow off towards the path to the woods, where he would dump the weeds.

I stood there for a while, not moving. I felt a little bit lightheaded, and I reached up and felt my face, it was awfully warm. I sighed, and hurried back inside, still feeling flushed. On my way up the stairs, I paused to look in the mirror. My cheeks were red, and the expression looking back at me was sheepish.

And I don't think my cheeks were that color because of the heat. I instantly felt a surge of emotions, as my cheeks burned insinuatingly.

"Bloody hell," I whispered, and then I turned and ran up the stairs.


End file.
